


I Bet That You Look Good On The Dancefloor

by Zhalia



Category: Buzzfeed Unsolved (Web Series), Watcher Entertainment
Genre: Cinderella AU, Grimm Fairytale AU, Grimm Quotes, M/M, Masquerade Ball, Minor Character Death, Suits, this entire fic is written because I have a suit kink
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-05
Updated: 2020-11-21
Packaged: 2021-03-03 20:48:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 12,573
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24551851
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zhalia/pseuds/Zhalia
Summary: Shane Madej had been living a single life for years, a life in which he felt content. but when his parents started pressuring him to find his true love, he realised just how much he needed it. He organised a three-day-long festival, in the hope to find the woman of his dreams.or, well, maybe not so much a woman.or: the Grimm Fairytale AU with modern setting and no magic no one asked for, but i read a possessive prince and immediately thought of Shane Madej so i had to.
Relationships: Ryan Bergara/Shane Madej
Comments: 109
Kudos: 165





	1. the good old days have died

**Author's Note:**

> a couple months ago i started reading some Grimm fairytales. i read cinderella, and when the prince said "she dances with me" whenever someone came close, i said 'wow possessive' out loud. and my brain just went straight to shane madej and then this fic came. 
> 
> If you're one of the boys reading this, i hope the tags will suffice as a warning but if you do decide to continue, know i made you incredibly handsome and good at sex. don't blame me if you don't like it ;).
> 
> title: I Bet You Look Good On The Dancefloor - Arctic Monkeys
> 
> thanks so much to bonbonbutterstove for beta'ing!

The clock was ticking annoyingly loud in the hospital room. It was the only sound made, and Ryan Bergara hated how his brain thought that it would be a good idea to subconsciously focus on it and make it sound even louder than the heart monitor by his mother's bed. He could tell his father was trying his very best to control his tears, to be strong for what would be the last few minutes of his life with his loving wife by his side. Ryan wasn't that strong, he realized as he felt the drying tears on his cheeks. He sighed deeply, looked away from the clock, and turned to his mother. She was laying in her hospital gown on the bed. Ryan smiled sadly and moved to grab one of her hands. He suppressed a shiver from running down his spine when he felt how cold her hand was. The hand that raised him, gave him a pat on the back to tell him he was doing a good job and could wrap around his shoulders when he couldn't stop sobbing because a movie was scary. That hand was now abnormally cold, small and wrinkled in a way he didn't remember it did. Her eyes were as beautiful as they've always been, and about the only thing that hadn't changed drastically in the past few months.

She smiled at him, "Dear, please remain good," she said with the greatest effort. Her chest was rising quickly and he wanted to stop her, but she continued, "Wherever I will go, I will keep watch over you and be near you." Slowly, she moved her other hand to cover Ryan's hand, "Darling, take this wedding ring your father gave me, I want it to be yours now." Ryan nodded softly, the lump too big in his throat to respond. He gently wrapped his fingers around the ring and slid it off of his mother's finger. He studied it quickly, the ring was absolutely gorgeous. Silver, with one small diamond in the middle. The outside wasn't what struck Ryan, no, he was intrigued by the detail and love his father had put in the inside. There was a heart not carved in, but sticking out of the ring. He remembered seeing his mother's finger when she just got out of the shower and wasn't wearing the ring, she always had this small heart in her skin and he never understood why. He now realised that the heart came from the ring, so that even when she wasn't wearing it, she still had the heart on her finger. Next to the heart was her name, Cindy, engraved in what Ryan recognised to be his dad's handwriting. He smiled briefly, put the ring in his pocket safe, and secured before turning back to his mother.

She blinked for a long time and then said, "I love you, son." With those last words having passed her lips, she closed her eyes. There was a soft smile resting on her cheeks before the sound of her heart monitor turned from a weak beat to a longer, monotone tune. Ryan barely registered the nurse entering the room, unplugging some wires from her body and filling in some forms. He barely registered his dad sighing deeply, a hand on his shoulder before he left the room. All Ryan could see was his mother before him, her eyes closed and the smile fading. She seemed at peace, but he had no idea if she was. She had changed so much in the past few months. She lost a whole lot of weight, the skin on her cheeks just barely covering her cheekbones. There was only one thing about her that hadn't changed, and it were her eyes. The one thing Ryan couldn't stop looking at when he visited her every day. And now those were closed too. The tears streaming from his eyes hit his collarbones and made his shirt wet. He couldn't care less.

It was only when the nurse placed a hand on his shoulder and called his name for what must've been five times, that Ryan was shaken out of his trance. She had a gentle smile on her face, kind, even if she had seen this a dozen times already. She guided him out of his mother's hospital room and led him to his dad, waiting for him outside.

Ryan's dad had ensured that his mother would have a beautiful grave, and Ryan visited it every day. He wept waterfalls of tears, toyed with the ring on his finger. It was the first thing he did after the funeral. He and his dad had gone to a jeweller and made the ring just a bit bigger, so it would fit around his ring finger. Ryan hadn't taken it off since.

When winter came the snow spread a white cloth over the grave, and when the spring sun had removed it again, the man took himself another wife. She was taller than him, had broad shoulders, and brought two daughters from her previous marriage. The daughters were pretty in their own ways, but cursed in their hearts.

Times soon grew very bad for the young Ryan.

"Why should this ugly being sit with us?" One of the stepsisters said, "If he wants to eat his sushi roll, he'll need to earn it!"

The other said, "Out with the servant!"

Their jealousy was fueled by Ryan's new stepmother, who refused to take proper care of a child that wasn't hers. At times, she'd mutter loud enough for Ryan to hear that she wished that his father hadn't brought a son with him. She loved Ryan's father in her own way, but easily dominated over him.

Ryan's stepmother had laughed when her daughters took Ryan's clothes away from him and handed him an old, way too big black shirt and a set of grey, ripped sweatpants to wear. He wasn't allowed to wear shoes. These were the only clothes he could wear. The sisters had laughed at him, "Look at this beautiful little prince! Look how decked he is!" and had left him in the kitchen. Ryan had looked at his father with pain in his eyes, helpless, hoping to hear some kind of protest from him. But his father had sighed, and turned away.

Ryan's father changed from a loving man who treated everyone equally, to a silent man. He loved his new wife a lot, and therefore accepted all of her demands and tried to please her as much as he could. He considered himself so lucky he found someone, he'd do anything to keep her close. Ryan thinks that at times his dad knows how bad Ryan's being treated, and how unfair it all is, but he's too afraid to say anything about it, fearing he might have his new wife turned against him. Ryan can't blame him, really.

Ryan worked day in day out everywhere in the house. He woke up before daybreak, cleaning the house and heading to the store to get groceries, the cheese store to get the cheese his stepmother loves, the meat from the butcher the sisters love, the bakery to get fresh bread for everyone, to the tailor to get new clothes for everyone except himself and to the beauty store to get the makeup he was demanded to get. Then he would get home, prepare breakfast for the household to eat and hope that there would be some left for himself. Every now and then he got a slice of bread, and he'd consider himself lucky. Then he'd clean the dishes - he wasn't allowed to use the dishwasher, even though it works fine - and wash the clothes. He'd bring the trash out, carrying as many of the heavy bags at once. He'd prepare lunch, making the table and bringing all the fresh spreads on the table, lay out the silver cutlery and bake omelettes for those who wanted some. After the family was done, he'd clean the table and eat some of the leftovers from the plates. He did the dishes again and started preparing dinner. He usually went out of his ways to prepare unique, new dishes as much as he could. He made a virtue out of the necessity. It was the only time of day he could let his creativity run wild, as long as he took all of the household's members' demands in account. 

After dinner, he'd clean the mess, accept silence as a compliment and then clean the kitchen again and more thoroughly. By then, it was nearing midnight as he headed to the basement, the only place in the house he could call his, and find the blanket to cover himself with as he slept on the cold tiles beside the ashes of the fireplace he wasn't allowed to light up under any circumstance. Ryan looked dusty and dirty at all times, never even allowed to shower, because he'd be a 'waste of the warm water'

To be fair, Ryan could live with all the tasks and responsibilities, finding his own happiness in small things. He was happy to leave the house and breathe the outside air in, happy to cook and proud when he enjoyed the taste, happy to wash his hands and let the water run over his fingers, happy to speak to people that weren't his stepsisters.

Because the stepsisters were the people that made his life incredibly hard. They did everything imaginable to hurt him. They'd make fun of him, scatter parts of their food on the ground and in the ashes so he had to sit down and pick them out of the ashes again and again and again and again.

They would steal his cloak when he would head outside in the winter, so he had to shiver all the way and hope he wouldn't freeze. They did everything in their power to make his life hard and harder than it was the day before. They made an art of bullying him.

Ryan had hope. For whatever reason, he kept working, kept following orders, brushed the insults off and found ways to keep going. Whenever he felt down, he just looked at the ring on his finger and looked up, feeling his mother's warm smile and hearing her kind words as if she stood beside him. He whispered, "I love you too, mom".

This tender moment came to a rapid end when his stepsisters' scream echoed through the entire house. There must be something wrong, Ryan thought, so he rushed to the living room to find the two girls jumping around each other happily. One of his sisters was holding a black envelope.

"What's wrong?" Ryan asked as he approached his sisters.

"You didn't hear the postman coming? Ugh, what a horrible maid you are." Was the first response he heard, she then rolled her eyes, too enthusiastic to be really mean, "Do you know that rich kid- why am I even asking, of course, you don't- anyways, total hottie. He's got like a million Instagram followers. He's been like single for his entire life and now he's hosting this three-day-long masquerade ball. And everyone is invited! Sis, we have to look good! We have a heart to steal!"

The other sister turned to him, "Yeah and you're getting us a new dress! I want to be the most drop-dead gorgeous girl in the room so that he can't do anything but fall for me!"

"Ev- Everyone's invited?" Ryan asked, slowly processing all of this new information he just gained.

"Yeah dummy, that's what the invite- oh, oh no no no no."

"You're not coming, we cannot be seen with you, maid."

Ryan shrugged off the insult, bit the inside of his cheek to stop himself from correcting his sisters that a maid is a name used for women. He sighed, in a weird way glad to see his stepsisters in such a high spirit. Deep down, he felt as though this invitation would be a good escape for him. It was a masquerade ball anyways, so if he could manage to leave the house, he wouldn't be recognised. An idea started to form in the back of his head as he zoned out from his sisters' babbling.

Maybe, just maybe, having hope wasn't all too misplaced.


	2. the house of fun

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks to bonbonbutterstove and matterbaby for beta'ing (i don't know how the links work lol whoops)

The Madejs were a family of rich people. Father Madej had invested in a big company when it was on the brink of being declared bankrupt, reorganized the entire staff, and their mindsets and it had been growing and growing ever since. He was a hardworking man, usually found in either his office at home or on the road to offices all over the country. Bit by bit he got known, he was invited to several tv-shows, one of which a show where people with creative ideas would pitch their company in front of a handful of investors to hope they'd help them financially in exchange for a part of the ownership. All in all, mister Madej was a busy man.

His family profited from it. His wife had the resources to start her own little art shop down the road and they had a big house built for them to live in. With their important position in the modern economy, the Madejs were on the verge of getting their own reality tv-show to show the world a behind-the-money shot of how they lived their life. The green lights were almost there, but there were a couple of bullet points the Madej parents wanted to tick off before they would surrender themselves to the exposure of a reality tv-show.

Madej's son, Shane, lived a good life. He had a nice family who loved him for being him and took care of him to the best of their abilities. He lived in a big house, had the entire attic for himself ever since his brother left to travel the world. Shane felt incredibly content as he walked down the stairs on his way to the dining room. He never understood why his parents had a big dining room, with a long, rectangular table where at least twenty people could sit and dine. Shane thought it was a bit medieval, as if they were a royal family with more servants in one house than actual household members.

Speaking of which, a male butler in his black suit moved over to Shane with a plate of his favorite breakfast dish: blueberry pancakes with so many syrup, it looked the pancakes were swimming in syrup. The butler made a disapproving noise and went to stand in the doorpost of the dining room. Shane's mother sat on his right-hand side. She looked like she had something on her mind and was about to start talking when his father said, "Morning Shane, did you sleep well?"

"Yeah," Shane smiled, as he remembered getting out of bed well-rested, "How about you?"

"I'm fine. Hey, your mother and I were wondering, have you uh met anyone-"

His mother interrupted him, "Hun, please, let's start from the beginning."

"Oh right, well, why don't you ask him?"

"Why do I have to do it?"

"Well, cause-"

"Guys!" Shane said, moving his hands around to silence his parents, "What is going on? What is so important and hard to tell me?"

"Shane, honey," His mother placed her hand on Shane's lower arm, "We're worried about you. When your brother had your age, he had many plans- he wanted to go travel the world, help kids in poorer regions as much as he could, he had his wife by his side. We just want you to be happy and we figured it might be good for you to get a girlfriend."

"I-" Shane started, he felt confused by the sudden bomb being dropped. When he woke up this morning, he had not expected this to happen. But now that he thought of it, it wasn't that weird from his parents to ask of him. His brother had left the house a couple of years ago when he met his wife. He met her at a party of her friend and when he tells the story he always says _it was love at first sight_. Shane knows that the real story is that his brother spilled a glass of water on a girl's dress and then the dress got shine-through and Scott just shrugged and his drunk brain thought it would be a good idea to start making out with her. When he woke up the next morning, he was still happy with the girl by his side, and so was she. They decided to start dating casually, to see if it would work. And it did. It turned out the both of them had a lot in common. They got married after about six years of dating, then Scott moved out of the house and the two of them traveled the world helping poor kids to get a childhood worth remembering. It's all very noble of him, and Shane's proud to have such a caring brother. But at the same time, it put expectations on him. He tried not to think about what image the world had from him. Frankly, he didn't care for the world much. His mother loved to use her creative abilities to take modeling pictures of him for herself to later use as references for his painting. He enjoyed helping her. The attention he got on social media wasn't something he expected to gain, but he felt neutral about it. it was funny to see how many heart emojis some girls could send him, and he understood how for some people it could be a big stroke to their ego. But to Shane? Not so much. He thought of himself as an awfully average looking white guy who just loved to make videos of random things and edit them together, or read through the massive library they had and talk to his cat about the stories he found, or teach the being history lessons.

Shane's father coughed, "We think you're lonely."

"I'm not-"

"Shane we just want what's best for you, and right now we think it would be nice for you to meet some new people and hopefully find a nice girl you can send your time with." He sent Shane a gentle smile, "How often have you read through the entire library by now?"

"Just four times!"

"Shane! You get new books every week!"

"I know and I really don't mind! I've friends with whom i watch movies! Remember Teej from college? Or Matty?"

"We know hun, but your dad and I just thought of organizing a big festival, or a ball, where we invite everyone from this town. Maybe you'll meet someone there as your brother did!"

Shane scoffed and shook his head. When he turned to look at his parents again, they were looking at him with so much hope in their eyes, a glimmer of sadness quickly blinked away to hide. Shane knew there was no convincing them, he was on the losing side of the debate and he knew when to fetch his white flag. He shrugged and muttered a soft, "Fine."

"Wonderful! I was thinking of making a masquerade ball, old-fashioned, just how you like it! I already made some invitations- come find me in the studio when you've finished your breakfast will you?" His mother jumped up, smiled, and placed a warm hand on his shoulder. She left the room, and the butler came around to clean her plate almost immediately. Shane's father nodded at him and left Shane alone to wonder how the hell this morning went from the same as any other day to the day he would start having to look for a girlfriend. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he had anticipated a day like this to come, he knew there would be a day where his parents start wondering, nay, pressuring him to get a girlfriend. Back in college, he had a fling every now and then but he always had this inner voice telling him that she was there just because he was famous. Shane didn't consider himself good-looking, so when a girl he thought to be out of his league would approach him, he second-guessed her every move until she would get sick of it. he just couldn't make relationships work, make them last.

So when his mother mentioned a masquerade ball, he thought that this might work.

He spent just about the rest of his day in his mother's studio. They were busy discussing every single detail that had to be worked out- food and beverages, masks, and other dress codes, timings, invites. Shane got more and more excited when he thought of it. His parents gave him an incredible amount of freedom to fill in the blanks, and he really felt like this festival would be something he can call _his_.

He was especially glad when his parents allowed him to not only invite his friends, vague acquaintances, and important townspeople, but _everyone_ in the city. Every man, every woman, and every child was allowed to swing by and dance, eat, and have fun. There were no entry fees either. If Shane had to look for a bride that would love him for him, he wanted to keep all doors opened and wouldn't judge on status. He would barely even be able to see their faces!

Speaking of which, Shane insisted on wearing a mask himself. If he was gonna find a woman to love truly based on her personality, she would also have to only know his personality and not connect the dots. He didn't want any more girls flirting with him when they know who he is. Transparency is key to this festival. His mother had questioned his decision, why would he wear a mask, if he was the one looking for a girl? Everyone should know who he is, he's the star of the show! But Shane didn't want that, and she let him be. His mother had started calling some of her friends in Italy, to give Shane a custom and handmade Venetian mask. Shane had stopped her halfway through, he didn't want to be recognized, and if he were the only one with a Venetian mask, he was convinced people would put one and one together. Instead, he went out to a nearby Halloween costume store, dug through the masks he could find, and found a phantom mask that covered about half of his face. He held it before the mirror and smiled at himself. He looked absolutely ridiculous, but he liked it. It felt anonymous. He scanned the visible side of his face, ran his finger over his jawline, the growing beard he wasn't planning on shaving off, the mustache, up to his cheekbone. The area around both his eyes was covered, as well as his forehead and his left cheek. He went to the cashier and bought the mask. On his way back, he couldn't stop himself from smiling stupidly to himself, and the mask in his hands.

He was proud to say he liked this idea and felt more alive than he had in the past few months.

Around four in the afternoon, everything was arranged. Shane's parents were glad their plan worked and Shane was happy to organize this big festival where he would meet many new people. Girl or no girl, Shane was excited. The invitations were sent out, and it was time for Shane to start counting down the days till the festival.

He almost forgot about how he was supposed to look for a wife. Almost.


	3. you push the button and we'll do the rest

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Steal some hearts, will you?"
> 
> Ryan laughed, "Yeah, I'll try."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank u matterbaby for beta'ing- this would be a mess without you, babykins

"RYAAN!" The screech of his name shook Ryan out of his thoughts; his stepsisters needed his attention. He hurried to their bedrooms and found the two girls, all sorts of makeup, nail polish, and dresses scattered over the floor. He sighed, knowing he was gonna have to clean that mess up later.  
  
"Comb our hair for us!" The older sister said, throwing a brush Ryan barely managed to catch. He silently obeyed, combed through both the girls' hair.  
  
"Brush our shoes!" The other sister said, placing two pairs of pumps in front of him. The pumps were barely recognizable. It seemed as though the girls had danced for hours in a big puddle of mud before handing the shoes to him. Ryan rolled his eyes and obeyed again, cleaning the shoes until he could see his reflection in the shoes.  
  
"Help us with these corsets!" Ryan frowned, he hadn't seen the girls in these corsets ever before. He knew his dad had brought these with him from his recent business trip to Europe. The girls had requested the prettiest of dresses, and his dad had managed to bring quite the dresses with him. The dresses were matching, one was a very chic navy blue dress and the other was black. The dresses were strapless, tight around the waist, and fell big past the hips. The sisters had to hold in their breath when Ryan tied the corset strings. Ryan wondered for a second how hard breathing mustn't be for the girls, but then he reminded himself that he didn't care all that much. If they wanted it, he obeyed, the consequences and their feelings were not his problem.  
  
"May I ask why you decided to wear dad's dresses today?" Ryan asked carefully, knowing he could easily get scolded for asking the wrong questions.  
  
"We are going to the festival at the Madej's mansion!" The sisters responded happily, almost too enthusiastic to add an insult along with it.  
  
Ryan nodded as the sisters left their rooms, their last command - "Clean up this mess before we get back from our makeover!" - lingering in his head. He grabbed the nail polish bottles, cleaned the spilled acetone, put the pajamas of the girls neatly folded back in their closets, and vacuumed the room just to be sure. The inside of Ryan's cheek was ruined and hurt when he was done. He wanted to go to this festival as well, not to fill in some application form of becoming Madejs bride, he laughed to himself, but to enjoy himself for a night. He just wanted a night where he wouldn't be the servant, but just be Ryan. The idea of a masquerade ball with free food and people he could meet sounded like an amazing escape.  
  
He gathered his confidence and knocked on the door of his dad's office. He called him in and Ryan apologized for disturbing him, then he asked: "Father, would I be allowed to join my step-sisters to the festival?"  
  
His dad seemed to think for a long while, even taking off his glasses. Then he shrugged helplessly, "You're gonna have to ask your stepmother for that. It's not up to me."  
  
"I understand, sorry to have interrupted you again, sir." Then he left the room and sighed to himself. A stray tear left his cheek. He knew there was no point in fighting with his dad, he was powerless to his wife and Ryan understood it. He understood it all. He always did. But that didn't mean it never hurt him. It didn't mean he always agreed with it. He gritted his teeth, murmured "Coward" and dried his cheek. He took a deep breath and walked to his step-mother in the living room.  
  
"Ma'am?" He said, moving to stand before her. His back was straightened and he held his shaking hands behind his back, "Can I ask a question?"  
  
"What is it?" She snapped, not looking at him.  
  
"I would like to go to the festival with the rest of this household." He said in one breath, as quickly as ripping off a bandaid.  
  
This got her attention, she looked at him from above the rim of her glasses, "You, Ryan? You, all covered with ashes and dirt, and you want to go to the festival? You have neither clothes nor shoes, and yet you want to dance!"   
  
Ryan nodded, "I think-"  
  
"You do now?"  
  
"-It would be good for this household to go out, and as I am apart of it I would like to join." He continued, ignoring the insult.  
  
His step-mother scoffed, shook her head, and then continued scrolling through her Facebook feed.  
  
Ryan's instincts told him to admit his defeat and leave the room to finish his chores. But as he started fiddling with the ring on his finger, he felt a warm ray of sunshine on the side of his cheek and internally thanked his mother for her presence. "Ma'am, I would really like to go to the festival."  
  
"You're not done yet?" She sighed, "Then who's gonna take care of this household, huh?"  
  
"The house has been cleaned thoroughly this morning, dinner is cooking and done in about twenty minutes, clothes have been washed, your daughters are dressed and ready to go. I think I'll be fine leaving this household for one night."  
  
For the briefest of moments, her mouth fell open in surprise. Ryan was glad he caught that, feeling the adrenaline of an already-won argument rushing through his veins. He just needed confirmation.  
  
It took him twenty more minutes before his stepmother silenced him, still not saying yes or no. Then, when he asked her after dinner, again and again, she finally gave in.  
  
"I have scattered my pearls into the ashes for you. If you can pick the out again in two hours, then you may go with us."  
  
Ryan smiled politely, excused himself, and contained himself. He opened the window of the basement and spoke through to the newspaper boy, "Hey, Brent, can you help me out with this?"  
  
"Sure, Ryan! What can I do?" The boy swiftly climbed through the window and looked at Ryan with big blue eyes. Brent was one of the few people Ryan was in contact with outside of his household. Every morning, Brent would greet Ryan and hand him the newspaper with a short summary of the news. Then he would linger on the streets, trying to sell the leftover papers. He knew bits and pieces of Ryan's situation, and Ryan knew bits and pieces of his. Brent had hardworking parents that were usually out of the house. He was lonely and picked up this job as a paperboy, which got him to talk to people on the streets. He liked it, just chatting with people about their lives so he didn't have to think about his.  
  
"The festival tonight- I want to go. And my step-mother said I could if I picked out her pearls in an hour. So will you help me? Please, Brent I-"  
  
But Brent already knelt down and started picking out the pearls. They fell in an easy rhythm where Brent would pick the pearls out of the ashes and Ryan could clean them with a damp cloth. Hardly an hour had passed and the two were done. Brent smiled brightly and nodded, climbing out of the window before he would be caught.  
  
Ryan took the bowl of pearls to his stepmother, he was happy, thinking that now he would be allowed to go to the festival with them.  
  
And he could've guessed, maybe should've taken into account somewhere in the back of his head, that despite his efforts, despite the deal, his stepmother would still say no. Which, she did. "No, Ryan, you have no clothes and you don't know how to dance. Everyone would laugh at you and I don't want to be seen with you."  
  
Ryan looked at her as he realized that his hope got shattered. He put the plate down and said, "This is unfair! I did what you asked of me!" And as the words left his mouth he felt his eyes water, tears watering a path over his cheek. At first, he thought of himself as weak, but then he realized how uncomfortable his stepmother was with weeping children. There was a reason the stepsisters always came to him when they cried- their mother couldn't handle it. So, naturally, Ryan decided to make a show of it. He cried louder, sank to his knees, and begged. He actually begged.  
  
And then his stepmother said, "Fine!" She raised her hands in defeat and Ryan stood up as soon as she did, "You may go if you're able to pick double the amount of pearls in just one hour." She thought to herself that Ryan would never be able to do it.  
  
But Ryan was nothing if not competitive, so he followed her to the basement, watched as she threw two bowls of pearls in the ashes, and pushed the bowls to his chest. Ryan watched her leave, then opened the window again and called to the paperboy. Brent understood the situation and whistled to a few of his street friends to help alongside him. In the end, four little boys climbed out of the window. Ryan smiled and thanked them a million times. He handed one of the boys a damp cloth as the other three started picking out the pearls from the ashes. Ryan and the other boy cleaned the pearls.  
  
Now, before even half an hour had passed, all the pearls were back in the bowls and shining brighter than they ever had before. The four boys climbed through the window again and wished Ryan the best of luck. Ryan thanked his mother for asking him to stay good, because good people will always have friends that will help them.  
  
He mirthfully took the bowls to his stepmother, hopeful to think that he was finally allowed to go to the festival.  
  
"It's no use," The woman had said, as she saw the filled bowls and gritted her teeth, "You are not coming with us, you have no clothes and you don't know how to dance. We would be ashamed of you." With the last words leaving her lips, she turned her back to Ryan and hurried away with her two proud daughters. The daughters, mature as they were, stuck their tongue out under their masks before laughing and leaving the house.  
  
Ryan had never felt more alone than right at this moment.  
  
The echo of the door slamming shut faded out and Ryan did the only thing he thought he could do.  
  
He opened it, left, and headed to his mother's grave.  
  
As he stood before the gravestone, a piece of stone he has read a million times and could cite as easy as breathing was to him. He let all of his tears fall down. Maybe his sadness wasn't because he couldn't go to a festival, but more a sign of true powerlessness.  
  
"Mother, I try so hard," He cried out, "I did all she asks of me, all her daughters ask of me. I obey every command without complaining. I barely sleep, I don't even have a bed to sleep on. I don't even have a pillow to sleep on. I sleep on the cold hard ground and it's all fine. I wake up before the sun rises to clean the entire house, I prepare them all their food and I fight for the best ingredients, I go to five different stores to always get whatever brand of butter they prefer. I help them with their social media accounts, I massage their muscles when they feel strained, I clean up their messes, I can handle the bullying. But for once, just once I ask something. And it's not much! I just want to go with them to this festival. I just want to have fun for a night. One night. But no! This too, I'm not allowed. She asked me twice to do whatever impossible idea she had in mind and I'm so glad I have the friends to help me. But even then, when I did what she wanted me to, did what she asked again, she said no. She refused, cold. This is worse than physical abuse, this is mental torture. And I- I-"  
  
"My child," A low and warm voice from behind Ryan said, "I apologize for eaves-dropping but I couldn't help but see you crying. It broke my heart to hear your confession. Is there any way I can help?"  
  
Ryan turned around and met the warm eyes of the tailor. The man before him was a man of passion, always helping him with getting the sisters the prettiest pieces of customized clothing. The tailor was probably the only person that openly showed his compassion for Ryan's situation, let him get a cup of tea when he waited and a slice of bread to get something to eat. At times, Ryan was even allowed to use the sink to wash his face and Ryan couldn't stop thanking him. Ryan smiled a broken smile, and he shook his head, "No, thank you, sir, for your lovely offer." He used his sleeve to wipe the tears from his cheeks, "I'll be fine."  
  
"I refuse to believe that. I hear you would like to go to this festival, don't you?"  
  
Ryan nodded.  
  
"Well then! To this festival, you shall go!"  
  
"But-"  
  
"No buts, young man. Come with me, we're gonna make you ready to have fun for a night."

Ryan complied silently, looking back at his mother's grave once more before he followed the short man to his studio. The warmth of the place made him realise exactly how cold he had felt before. The man sits him down on a couch with a cup of tea to warm up. He excuses himself for a second.

"See this thing," He murmured when he rolled the mannequin from his workplace into the store, "Is a little passion project of mine. I never thought I'd find someone to use it, but I think you would make a great model. And what better purpose for this big ol' piece of fabric than to make a friend happy?" He moved closer to Ryan and his smile faded, "Oh no, out you go- to the showers. You aren't allowed to wear this when you smell like that. Seriously!"

Ryan laughed with him and followed his directions to the bathroom upstairs. He undressed himself and took a shower. He was quick, afraid to use up too much water. He dried himself with the towel the tailor had provided for him. Then he took only his underwear and went downstairs, his old and ragged clothes clutched to his chest. Ryan was self-concious, but the tailor made him feel comfortable rather quickly. Ryan placed his clothes on the couch and trailed the suit with his fingers. He looked at the long, navy blue blazer with thin white, vertical lines, counted the six buttons. Then he let his gaze drop to the pants, skinny and cuffed dresing pants with the same pattern. 

"Are you just going to stare at it or try it on?"

"I- I don't-" Ryan stammered,

"Here, take this button-up," The tailor handed him a white button-up shirt and Ryan followed him, putting on the shirt. Then, the tailor helped him with the tie. Ryan put on the pants and tucked the shirt under the waistband. He put on the blazer and looked at his relfection in the mirror. He never considered himself handsome but, damn, this suit made him look good.

"I knew you'd fit! Here, put this around one of the buttons and in your pocket," The tailor gave him a little golden pocket watch. "Oh, and take these Oxford's." Ryan put on the shoes and looked at himself again. He felt proud, and happy. Thankful that he had people willing to help.

"Oh, and I believe you need a mask?" The tailor came back from the workshop with a simple, navy blue mask that covered just around his eyes. 

"I don't know how to thank you, sir."

"Steal some hearts, will you?"

Ryan laughed, "Yeah, I'll try."

"Here's the key to the workshop. When you return, just undress yourself and fold the suit on the couch. You can leave the key under the doormat. I trust you, Ryan."

And with that, Ryan went to the festival.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for the late update- i have been and still am quite busy.  
> anyways!! there might be a meeting soon  
> oh and there's a lot of Grimm quotes in this chapter :)
> 
> i hope to update a bit more frequently soon.


	4. dirty dancefloors

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> again a big thanks to matterbaby for beta'ing and motivating me to continue. i love you with whole my being.

Shane isn't nervous. Shane doesn't get nervous. See, it might seem like he's nervous because he can't sit down, keeps walking around and his hands are shaking, but Shane isn't nervous. He's excited. Excited, that's the word.

He was happy that his parents allowed his friends to come before the party. He hadn't seen most of his friends since college and now he could talk to them freely, no masks on yet. It was fun to chat, sure, but Shane hadn't realized that all, literally all of his friends had brought a plus one. His best friend from college had a girlfriend, his former roommate had a boyfriend and there was something polyamorous happening with his history classmate. Shane's mood quickly fell down a twelve-story building. He was jovial, but the anticipation was misplaced. He hadn't expected literally all of his friends to be romantically engaged one way or another, but he mostly hadn't expected to feel so lonely when realization quite painfully slapped him in his face.

It took him about an hour or two, but he managed to shrug his sadness off. His friends had cheered him up with stories from their college days, told in embarrassingly great detail. For a moment, Shane felt like he was back in his dorm room, throwing a ball up and down as he listened to his roommate trying, but failing, to study German. The words echoing in the room, along with Shane's snickers when he tried to hold back his laughter at his roommate's horrible pronunciations. Shane's shoulders relaxed, blowing out a tension he didn't realize pumped through his veins. He smiled to no one in particular, before putting on his half mask and opening the doors from the living room to the ballroom.

The ball, despite Shane and his parents' greatest efforts, was pretty damn boring.

Shane tried, he really did. He went to people, chatted and danced, ate some of the hors d'oeuvres, and requested songs. He had a good time, sure, but as he scanned the upper layer of the building, and met his parents' eyes, he got reminded of his goal, the reason this festival was hosted, and it was for him to find a bride.

But every single conversation was shallow. He had to bite the inside of his cheek every few seconds because he just couldn't get something worthwhile out of anyone he talked to. It was even worse when people who were talking to him, asked him if he knew where Shane Madej was because they'd like to flirt with the hottie. Shane frowned at such responses, this party was one giant blind date and looking for The Shane Madej just because he's famous is the exact opposite of what Shane had hoped would happen. But then again, shallow-minded people provide nothing but shallow conversations. This girl, in her black ballgown, took up the entire way and Shane almost had to push her away to get out of her sight.

He headed to the bar, nodded to the bartender, and took the drink made for him. With his back leaning against the bar, he let his eyes roam over everyone in the room, from the rounded tables on the left, the dancefloor in front of him - complete with DJ who enjoyed his own music more than anyone else on the dancefloor - and the guy in the navy blue suit beside him. Shane frowned as he took the guy in, nice suit, obviously made just for him as it fit him like a glove, messy brown hair and big brown eyes. Big, like he was taking in the room as if it was something he had never seen before.

Shane chuckled, "Boring party, huh?"

The man beside him looked at him once, twice, pointed at his chest, and responded when Shane nodded, "Boring? I think you and I have very different ideas of a boring party."

"You're having fun, then? You're standing at the bar, observing others and not engaging in conversation, doesn't seem like you're having fun," Shane observed, his head cocked to the side as he took a sip of his drink.

"I am engaged in a conversation with you, though, so that's where you're wrong. And yeah, I may not be dancing but that doesn't mean I'm not having fun." The man beside him hadn't looked at Shane yet, eyes too focused on the room before him, trying to take the overwhelming beauty in.

"Alright then, maybe you're having some kind of fun, but look around!" Shane gestured around the room, "I doubt anyone here is truly having fun, they're all too busy with whatever they prioritize, over letting themselves go and enjoying a night, maybe getting a hookup out of it." He scoffed, shaking his head, "Look over there, in the far corner, everyone on that table is on their phone as if they're afraid that when they don't post something on social media every two minutes, no one will believe they were here. Then the table next to it, it's filled with girls judging the people passing by, judging them on their looks and flat out _bullying_ them. Then on the dancefloor? There's no one dancing, they're vibing to some of the tunes and shazamming what they like, but the girls are sending some selfies to people who aren't here and the boys are hopelessly trying to dance with girls to touch them on inappropriate places." Shane took a deep breath and looked up, the second floor was one big balcony that looked over the dancefloor, "The worst people are up there, they're all parents who are checking on their kids' movements to give them a speech about whatever they did wrong later. No one is having fun, blue-mask-guy, they're just pretending. They're cautious."

"You keep saying that, but you're observing very shallowly, you're only looking for what you want to see," The man beside him _finally_ turned and looked at Shane, a big smile resting on his cheeks.

Shane looked at him and smiled back, despite himself, "Well brown eyes, tell me, what do you see?"

"Okay, let's look at the same groups, alright, Big Guy? The table with their phones? They may seem like they have their eyes glued to pixels, but look- they're showing what I think are memes to each other, and laughing together. See that? They're having fun." He pointed at Shane with a smile that said, _told-you-so_.  
  
The man continued, "Then the table beside them, yeah, they might be mean about others to entertain themselves, but every now and then they move away from the dancefloor entirely and focus on each other, I think they're sharing stories, personal experiences and all that. They're getting to know each other- they're having fun." The man crossed his arms, "And then the people on the dancefloor? They're vibing to the new songs they've never heard before, learning the lyrics, opening themselves up to new artists and genres. Some men may seem like they're hopelessly trying to touch the girls, and yeah, some girls seem a bit uncomfortable, but they're making a game out of it. The boys are just having fun and challenging each other. They're- see! Saw that high-five? They're having fun, big guy. And lastly," The tanned man on Shane's side looked up, "Those people up there? They're looking out for their kids. Surely there might be some generation-related-miscommunication happening and, sure, their kids here might get scolded for some of their movements later, but they're also catching up, remembering their young days and telling their fellow parents about how they raise their kids. I think-"

"That they're having fun? Alright, detective, you got me."

"Yeah, and how can they not? Literally, this entire room is made to have fun. There's the DJ who's really enjoying his place, this wonderful aesthetic here, with that big chandelier - is that glass or real crystal? - and the gold details on the brown walls, it looks very medieval, almost like I stepped in some kind of palace when I got here."

The man smiled again, "You know, there's rumours about this place that it's haunted, that it had been like this since the 1600's and that the construction workers who died due to their poor health and work conditions are still seen here in the hallways sometimes. And there's stories that there's a woman in a victorian dress seen dancing on this dancefloor and mourning her deceased husband."

"What does that have to do with anything?"

"Well, I was cautious when entering here, don't want to do anything to upset them you know? Who knows what might happen."

"The ghosts?" Shane clarified, "You're scared you might upset some ghosties?"

"Dude! Don't-" The man looked around, "Don't talk about them like that."

"Whatever, I don't believe in ghosts. I think it's bullshit but very nice for some horror movies. Anyways- continue with your observations." Shane smiled, scanning the man again. His posture went from high-alert-fidgeting to enthusiastic gestures again.

"Right, the food! The food is so good! Have you tried this shrimp salad? Or these spring rolls? God, I think I've had an entire plate of these bad boys by now. They're insane."

Shane looked at the man with the warmest eyes he was capable of showing. His love for the details was a thing Shane had forgotten to admire in the past years. Growing up in this house, he had forgotten about the details, about the crystal chandelier and about the medieval aesthetic his parents had paid so much time and dedication to. He had forgotten how good the chef was, and how keen she was on creating her own loving kind of art on a plate. He had forgotten because it had become his new normal. And this man, with just an hour of talking to him, had managed to make Shane reevaluate some of his thoughts and opinions.

And the only way Shane thought of repaying him was to open his hand and smile, "Wanna dance?" He had blurted it out before thinking, only realizing how stupid he looked right now, how much he assumed about the man by his side. What if he was there just to observe, chat, and eat? Shane couldn't judge him for that. Shane thought-

And then he felt the warmth of a hand placed in his, fingers laced before he dared to meet his eyes again. Shane smiled and guided the beautiful stranger with him to the center of the dancefloor.

~❃~

Only when the men arrived at the center of the dancefloor, Ryan realized how he had never danced to a slow song in his entire life. Before he knew it, the taller man had put his right hand on Ryan's waist, and held the other loosely. Ryan froze for a second, looking at their position and then back in the man's eyes, "I-" He coughed and smiled nervously, "I don't know how to dance like this."

The taller man gave Ryan cute puppy eyes and said, "Alright, let me guide you." And he took Ryan's left hand and put it on his own upper arm, "Just move along to the rhythm, left to right, left to right."

And Ryan followed the instructions, slowly moved his hips along with the man before him, felt himself get a bit less nervous, and dared to look up from their linked hands to the big guy's eyes. There was something to say about the sincerity with which he helped Ryan, the attention that he gave him. It was unusual for Ryan to feel so focused on, so important. He never had this much attention since his mother died, and now this man was giving it to him like it was as natural as breathing.

The men danced for what must have been hours, swinging to slow songs and getting closer and closer to each other, but also moving wildly when the DJ made the beat drop along with their heartbeats and the loud tunes echoed through the entire room. For once, Ryan managed to let go of responsibilities, consequences, and every other nagging feeling and dropped a weight from his shoulders to just let himself free for one night. He let the music guide him in his moves, stole a glance of the tall man who only looked at him, and felt himself getting warmer and warmer every time he met his eyes. Ryan knew that he wasn't just getting warm because he was dancing wildly.

At times, he'd catch either of his step-sisters in the corner and he could hear his heart beating rapidly in his ears, scared to be found. He knew he was unrecognizable in his mask, showered and with a suit neither of the girls can possibly have ever seen before. But in the back of his mind, he took into account that it was very likely they'd recognize some of his movements, his laugh, his voice. Anything, really.

The girls may not pay much attention to him on a day to day basis, but when they needed to check if a paparazzi photo was really that one hottie they liked or if it was just someone that looked like him, they could turn into some quality detectives. They could enhance pictures and draw conclusions from the small pixels because, _no, dear fan account, that cannot possibly be him, because Shane has a birthmark on that side of his face, and this man clearly doesn't_. Ryan could admire their dedication, but their keen sight wouldn't work to his advantage when he was ever so clearly trespassing.

Within a matter of seconds, Ryan's stress level peaked and dropped. His stepsisters had swung by the two men and asked Ryan's dance partner to join them for a song. They didn't have eyes for Ryan, at first. The taller man had smiled and kindly rejected their offer. The girls crossed their arms and turned to Ryan, asking him a question that made him struggle to hold in his laughter:

"Would you like to dance with us?"

But before Ryan could respond in any possible way, the taller man had dexterously maneuvered from behind the girls, swung his arm around Ryan's shoulders, and said, his voice low, "He is my dance partner." Then, he spun Ryan around, grabbed his hand again, and refused to dance with anyone else.

Ryan felt on fire under his gaze, there was a hint of possessiveness in his eyes. As if he were to say, _I finally found someone I can have fun with, I'm not letting him go_. They danced until late in the evening, never once letting go of each others' hands.

A little while after midnight, Ryan dragged the hand of his taller friend with him from the dancefloor. He walked through some doors and headed outside. The cold air slapped him in his face, but he felt like it was a liberation from the pressing, warm, and sweaty atmosphere that hung inside.

"Hey, what's wrong?" The taller man asked, his hands still in Ryan's.

"I have to go, but I wanted to say goodbye to you first, instead of just vanishing into the abyss." Ryan smiled at the man before him. He played with his knuckles absentmindedly.

"Awh that's sweet, who knows, maybe I'd have thought that ghost in her victorian dress thought you were her handsome little husband."

"Who are you calling little-" _and handsome, oh_.

"You're not exactly tall."

"You're- you're abnormally tall. How's the weather there?"

"Oh haha, never heard that one before."

"Fair."

A silence fell down on them, lingering, waiting for the thin veil to be broken.

Neither of the men made a move. Ryan could tell he was waiting for something to happen, waiting for a goodbye. Waiting for something to close off an amazing night before he would rush back to his normal life, to reality. His lip twitched, and Ryan realized how much he longed to be kissed by this man. How much he wanted the man to lean down, close his eyes, brush his lips over Ryan's as if he would wait for an invitation. Ryan would swing his arms around the man's neck and pull him close, before leaving the mansion with a warm reminder on his lips, waiting for the next day to be over until he can kiss this man again and again and again.

This was a wonderful fairytale Ryan was lucky enough to be apart of. He was happy he got and took the chance to flee from his home and meet the wonderful tailor, but most of all meet this wonderful man. This man, with his messy brown hair, the big brown eyes as only recognizable trait behind his mask, his soft hands, the way he'd look at Ryan as if he would be the answer to all kinds of unspoken questions.

The man spoke, voice rough as if it's the first time in years he's used it, "Let me walk you home."

"I- I can't," Ryan said, instinctively. There was no way he could let this man see his home, see him, see what family he belonged to. He didn't want this fairytale to end. Everything was so perfect and magical. There was no judging based on his looks, based on his name. Everything was about who he is as a person. And that was what made Ryan feel so confident behind his mask.

He was about to explain his reasoning, his story when he caught his father's silhouette in the door opening. The man wandered out, shot a look back, and then stood in the doorpost waiting for the rest of his family to join him.

Ryan quickly let go of the taller man's hand and walked away.

"Wait!" The taller man started to follow him, but Ryan was faster.

"Don't worry! I won't get killed by a ghost!"

And with that, he fled.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry the updates are taking so long- i haven't had time to write At All and i hope to pick it back up when school starts :)
> 
> thanks guys so much for your patience 
> 
> // update november '20: i've written new chapters!! im so sorry updates are takign long but i'm just here to let you know i haven't forgotten about this fic and i'm still actively working on it. i had a lil' writer's block to deal with but dear popkin16 has been nothing but a blessing to me, helping me with this fic everywhere i needed. and i can't forget about zan and ana and cat either, urging me to write more because they apparently like this thing here. thanks girls, and our sprints have really been great for me too. so yeah long speech short, i'm workin on it, there's more chapters coming soon, i promise.   
> also this fic was originially supposed to be like 20k but it's gonna be much much longer than than oops my fingers slipped i guess.


	5. and dreams of naughtiness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shit.
> 
> He should've kissed the guy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello !! i live !!!!!
> 
> it's been a while but i had to deal with a Massive Writer's Block but hey!! here i am!! 
> 
> incredible shout out to popkin16, without whom this would not exist. thank you for being an amazing beta, with your perfect reviews and being very honest in your comments. really cannot do this without you.
> 
> also sending love to the Shyan Shipping Society server for getting my ass to write this some more. extra spotlight goes to ana and zan for screaming about this fic for hours to me. i love u girls.
> 
> also sorry zan to post this when ur asleep. pls dont kill me
> 
> im working on more chapters!! so i hope to post more soon!! :D!

He should've kissed the guy.

Shane shook his head wildly when he turned back to his house. The man he danced with for the entire night, the man that cheered him up and gave him a tiny bit of hope for the project he had spent most of his hours on: the festival. But it wasn't just that, it wasn't just hope. The blue-masked little guy made Shane actually _feel_ something.

For the past few weeks, months, maybe even years, Shane had slowly started to feel less and less, like he was an empty shell fulfilling whatever he needed to do to pretend to fit in amongst humans. He smiled, he laughed, he lived, but he didn't actually feel like he was _living_. He was existing, there, an annoying constant in a role needing to uphold to be seen as 'normal'. But Shane felt empty, stuff he used to love felt like they were a mandatory thing, or something just a part of the routine he mindlessly followed because change would require energy and he lacked it in all ways. Nothing was challenging about his life, nothing grabbed his interest and made him stay up late nights researching, following, watching, or listening. The food he ate was absolutely wonderful, but it didn't taste mind-blowingly marvelous. It was just food, at the end of the day. And sure, some things made him laugh genuinely, like watching his favourite content creators or just scrolling through the memes subreddit. But in the end, those were small moments in long days, they were temporary, easily forgotten and meaningless.

The change in his energy, the constantly shrinking amount of excitement he had for life in general, was happening so gradually that he barely registered it.

But after spending just a handful of hours with a complete stranger, Shane finally realised how different everything felt. Or, well, how he _felt_ stuff at all. Shane was able to feel every brush of his shirt against his skin, the warm fingers laced in his hand and the body of the man close to his. The tunes of the music, the taste of the foods, the sound of laughter all around him. The man's eyes, his smile, his hands. Shane nearly felt overstimulated with all the impulses triggering every last one of his senses.

And he _loved_ it.

Shane called for his dad, to see if the man could help. Two butlers swirled around Shane in a matter of minutes overwhelming him with questions. Shane answered the ones he could, guiding them on the streets and nervously counting up and down to a thousand until they would return. The night surrounded him in blackness and the early morning dawn rained down on him. Shane kept looking around, fidgeting with his fingernails as he hoped to meet the eyes of his mysterious stranger again. He needed to know if what he felt was due to him, about him. He needed to feel.

He should've kissed the guy.

Honestly, it would have been the best way to close off the night. But Shane was nothing if not an idiot, so of course, he got so distracted by those brown eyes, the questioning look, that he lost all of his mind on it. He knew that it was what he was supposed to do, what he should've done. What he wanted to do. Instead, he lingered, hoping that the night would go on forever and never stop. That time would've refrained from ticking on so he could spend the rest of his life staring into those big brown eyes

And wonder what those lips would feel like.

"Dammit," Shane cursed to himself, nibbling aggressively on the nail of his thumb. He'll be left to wonder. The guy left in such a haste, Shane was unsure if he would ever be seeing him again. The festival would be continuing for two more days and it would kill Shane if he was left with the mere ghost of the man. _Fucking ghosts_. Shane shook his head, how can someone think that the human body is filled with energy that remains when one dies? There's no proof of that. You die, that's the end.

Shane shook his head again, why was he getting in a mental debate on a subject he's always been sure about? Why did he feel like he had to justify his opinions? In his head, there was a version of the Mystery Man dancing around him, walking behind him and talking. Invading his every thought, and when there's a thought without him, Shane feels empty and is reminded of him again. When Shane closes his eyes, he swears he feels the arms of the mystery man around him, fingers walking over his neck, wrapping around, hugging him, kissing him, sucking down...

"Shane," the voice of a blond butler shook him awake and Shane rose to his feet immediately.

"Good news?" His eyes were wide, hopeful, but then the man shook his head and Shane felt like those seconds lasted several hours. He felt his shoulders lowering, his breathing stopping and his world spinning.

He should've kissed the guy.

Somehow Shane ended up in his bed, showered and ready to sleep. He hadn't even touched his phone despite it lighting up millions of times. The festival was popular on social media, that was for sure. Short glances at the pixels told him many people were looking forward to the next two days. He sighed, somewhat content to know his little creation got so much love, a passion project in which he spent quite some hours, is receiving the appreciation it deserved. And yet he couldn't help but feel down, a bitter taste in his mouth lingering, a question that needed an answer. Or, well, many questions that need answering. For one, Shane didn't know that he could actually fall in love with men. He rolled around his bed and dug deep in his memories, had he ever fallen in love with a man before? Sure, he had his experiments in college but most of those were born out of scientific curiosity in a journey to find who he is. He wasn't one to sleep around, but clearly, he hadn't found a love strong enough to survive the distance between his current residence and any of his former peer's current whereabouts. On top of that, he wasn't one to look for love, it more or less stumbled in his path. He would meet someone and get along, try a relationship for a while until she got bored of his yearning for the past and he got tired of her need for attention. And here, lying in his bed, wandering aimlessly in his mind to find any sort of moment that would help him answer at least one of the questions in his mind, he found that it all ended up with the same toothy grin visualised before him.

Shane closed his eyes and drifted off into a deep slumber, reliving the night he had and picking at the highlights to see what made it all so special. To see what made _him_ so special.

A smile danced on his lips once he relived every single last bit and figured there was space for a tiny bit of imagination, a fantasy. In his dream, he could do all he wanted to do, no consequences attached for it wasn't happening. Dream-Shane had not let the man walk home, he had grabbed his cheek, a possessive hand claiming him and putting him in his place. He had moved down, brushing his lips over the man's before indulging in the sea that held his desires. The possibilities of a mere kiss, the idea, the thrill. It overwhelmed Shane to a degree he realised he loved. A strange energy washed over him as he imagined kissing, kissing, kissing and touching and moving and marking and shoving and claiming in all ways. His imagination hid no part of his desires, no limits, no shame as he dreamt of moving the man around, showing him all the corners of his precious home and painting his skin with red and purple stains before sighing deeply as his eyes opened. His heart was beating heavy in his chest and he was panting into the silence of his room.

Safe to say, Shane's first trip when he awoke was from his bed to his shower to deal with his boner and make a mental to-do list titled Don't Waste Chances You Idiot.

His hair was a mess when he walked down the stairs, rubbing his sweaty hands on his flannel before smiling to a butler who guided him to the dining hall. He rushed through his breakfast, hiding from his parents under the pretence of him needing to set up some last details. He tried so hard to focus on something else, history books, science facts, old movies, new movies, movie facts, mystery man, kissing him, making out with him, making him whimper.

Shit.

He should've kissed the guy.

There was nothing that could actually distract him for longer than a handful of minutes at a time. A mere blink would result in him seeing those deep, dark eyes before him. A flash of a screen was his toothy grin, smiling at him, amused. A silhouette passing by was his, in a suit looking all illegally handsome.

In a haze, Shane managed to get dressed, to eat and to end up standing before his mirror. His outfit for tonight was more casual than yesterday. He didn't feel like grabbing a jacket and was left in his cuffed, dark blue dressing pants, a white shirt with a dark brown tie and a light brown waistcoat. His hair had gotten longer and Shane was able to get an elastic to move it in a casual bun. His long beard made it look like he came straight from chopping wood in the forest, and something about the stereotype being so far off gave him a satisfied feeling.

His fingers were shaking anxiously when he helped the butlers out to place new cutlery on the tables, some of the silverware even slipping through his hands. His mother heard the piece fall and walked to him, a calming hand placed on his shoulder as she guided him to her atelier.

"Darling, are you alright? You seem incredibly stressed."

"I'm fine, just, uh, can't wait for it to be night already. I'm very excited." Shane's face made a smile that never really reached his eyes. There was a flinch on his mother's cheeks that told him she noticed, but she didn't mention it.

"Do you want some rest, or would you rather help out to keep your mind off of things?" Her voice was gentle and Shane's shoulders let go of some tension. He shrugged, unsure what would help him best. His plan to be distracted before the night started hadn't helped him throughout the entire day, so why would it work now? But his mother guided him to the garden, joining him a few seconds later with two cups of tea in her hand. Shane took his glass automatically and let the steam warm his cheeks. He breathed the smell of peppermint, the freshness cleansing the air in his nose and the warmth relaxing his muscles. His mother placed a hand on his upper arm and stroked up and down.

"You know, your father and I met at a party like this too."

"No way!" Shane shot his head to his mother, he knew the vague lines of how they met, but never the details. There was a weird mixture of naked curiosity with hope rising to his cheeks. He was all ears when his mother smiled again, a glimmer in his eyes telling him she loved to relive the memory.

"It was years ago, back in the 80s. This club hosted an event around easter that had nothing to do with Easter at all. I wasn't planning on going, and neither was your dad, but you know, friends dragged us along and we both came. I hadn't seen your dad before that moment, by the way, he told me this later. Anyways, so here we were, in a colorful club, filled to the brim with people and my friend Sary and I just managed to be one of the last people allowed in before the bouncer closed the red rope. We were so happy and relieved to be in. i remember preparing my look for hours and swirling my dress before the mirror time after time again to choose which outfit was the best." She snickered at the idea, moving her arms around like she really got taken back to the moment itself, standing and dancing in front of her mirror, wearing makeup to a degree she had never before and heart beating loud in her chest on anticipation alone.

"Your dad's friend actually offered me a drink first, which I accepted. He was kind of a weird guy but adorable in a way. He tried very hard to be flirty, but it didn't really work," She laughed at the memory and Shane joined her, for a second thinking of his mystery guy's wide smile with his bright teeth, but too caught up in his mother storytelling to pay it much mind, "Your dad joined us after a few minutes, and so did Sary. We got into a conversation with all four of us and then Sary got us all to the dancefloor and we danced and danced, and then Sary left to get some drinks, and your dad's friend - his name was Cameron - headed to the bathroom. It was just the two of us and we danced and danced. I'm pretty sure Sary and Cameron were watching from a distance. Your dad and I were just... In our own bubble. There was no one around us anymore, the music was loud and he was the only one in that entire room. After a few songs, we headed outside to catch our breaths, Sary and Cameron completely forgotten. We sat on the pavement and chatted and ended up kissing there."

Shane stopped himself from cringing before she went into too much detail, but luckily, she spared him. Not without a devious grin, she continued: "I gave him my number and when I was home I waited for hours for him to call. I slept terribly that night, nothing but his eyes and soft smile in my mind. He ended up calling a day later and we saw each other every week since then. Took us two months to get together! It was sweet torture."

She moved to grab Shane's hand and held it in her lap, "Whoever you meet here, darling, please do not feel forced to get anything out of it. I hope with whole my being you find your true love, but we can't do anything else than get you to meet someone new. I hope you'll just see someone walk here and know from the moment you lay eyes on her that she's the one. But if not, then that's fine too. We're here for you and we'll love you unconditionally. Promise."

"Thanks, mom, that means a lot. The story really got my head off of things." Shane let out a deep sigh, "I just, uhm, don't know how to say this but I think-"

"Darling? Darling! There you are!" Shane's dad made his way through the garden and stood before them like he appeared out of nowhere, "Sary's here, she brought her daughter too! Come, come!"

Shane's mom moved to stand up, giving Shane's hand one last squeeze, "Come, Shane, Sary's been dying to meet you. Tell me whatever you wanted to say later, okay?"

Shane smiled, but his jaw was clenched, "I think I'm gonna take a little walk and then wait at the door, I'll say hi to Sary later okay? Wish her a goodnight regardless."

The stress made its way slowly but surely back into Shane's body, from his head to his spine to his fingertips. Shane paced around the entrance of his mansion for a few rounds. The butler by the entrance grabbed him by the shoulders, making eye contact and speaking to him politely but firmly: "Sir, with all due respect, I understand this event is causing you to feel stressed, but you walking around like this is giving me stress as well. Why don't you sit down here and just take some calming breaths? Shall I bring you another cup of tea?"

A short nod and Shane sat down on the pavement, back against the cold, concrete wall and head filled with things he should have and could have done. Eyes focused on the line of people walking into the building bit by bit and hoping that just once the world would work in his favour for him and that his mystery man would enter his lot again.

After almost two hours since the event started again, and seconds away from Shane thinking of drawing back to his bedroom and hiding from every other person, he felt a hand on his shoulder and a teasing, but soft, " _Looking for someone?"_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey! you there! dear reader! do you love shyan and want to talk more about it? maybe thirst a little? rant about antis? well boy oh boy do i have the place for you! join the Shyan Shipping Society server: a safe place to talk all things shyan! our discord server is filled with amazing creators like madamecrimson, helloitsvehere, matterbaby and many more! whether you're a reader, a writer, a video editor, an artist- everyone's welcome! on top of chatting (and thirsting) we also host a very lowkey monthly writing challenge for everyone in the server to participate in! will i see you there? https://discord.gg/G3EfhGUZ9h


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